A Fallen Angel's Schadenfreude

"The Judicator" - that was my title. My name, Kayle, once struck fear in the hearts of criminals... but not anymore.

Now, I write my thoughts in a journal, and keep it under my cot in my eight-by-eight-foot room, on the basement floor of a strip club, next to a janitorial closet. It's smaller than a prison cell... sometimes it feels more like a prison than a home. Aside from my cot, I have a small desk and mirror for makeup and the like, and a few boxes laying around containing my 'clothes,' and my old armor and sword.

I havn't worn my armor in months.. I hope everything still fits.. my old helm sits on top of the boxes, gathering dust..

As the League of Legends recruited more and more champions, some veterans were left by the wayside. What was originally a promise with the league to serve them in return for their aid became a faint hope as less and less summoners had an interest in my skills. The security of the League was outsourced to Jayce, Caitlyn, and the police of Piltover... others proved better healers, and my name and influence slipped further and further into obscurity. I just "wasn't worth the resources" - and soon I had no work, on the field of justice, or off. People wanted to summon other champions, not me.

Yorick, the barkeep, was always kind to me. When I handled security for the league, I met him several times because thieves had been plundering his tombs. I was happy to help him bring the wrongdoers to justice; it's only right. After I was cast out, he said he would put in a good word for me with the club's owner. I got a job as an "entertainer" and was very thankful.. I just wish I knew what "entertainer" meant at the time.

As I sit here writing, I wear my new uniform: knee-high black boots, a g-string, two decorative black wraps for my arms, and tonight I was fortunate and got white pastie stickers for my breasts. Usually I get a bra and must remove it during my dance on the pole, or must serve drinks topless as a waitress. There was a time I wouldn't have thought to be thankful for a couple stickers - how naive I was!

The first while was hard.. not physically, I was plenty fit to do the pole dancing and drink serving, but.. mentally. For the first little while, some who recognized me were polite to me. "Nice dancing, Kayle!" or "Here's a tip, Kayle. I hope things work out." But after the first few weeks, only Garen dropped in once in a while and still called me "angel" and as the months passed even he stopped and most summoners and champions forgot about me. "Who's the one with the white wings?" the new summoners would say. "Are they real?" - yes, the wings are real!

Come to think of it, I havn't flown in weeks.. there's not really room for it in the club, I have to walk using my feet.

..that took some adjusting.

I made a mistake about one month in though; a summoner said "hey slut, give me a drink" and I threw it in his face. I nearly lost my job.. I spent the next hour in the club owner's office being yelled at. "Never disrespect customers, they pay your salary! Maybe I made a mistake listening to Yorick." he said.

Yorick had to reimburse the customer from his own salary, since I didn't have the money to do so. I felt awful.. I pleaded with the club owner, agreed to work double shifts, extra hours without overtime, anything to prevent Yorick from being dragged into it. I gave two-thirds of my money for six weeks to pay back the club.. and after I paid it off, had to agree to a constant 50% cut to the club.. for being a "risky employee" and needing "insurance against misbehavior expenses" the owner said.

It was extortion, but, that or no job..

During the following weeks, that one mean summoner came back a few times. I found he normally showed up on weekends and asked to be a waitress and not a dancer for those shifts and did my best to avoid him, but once in a while I couldn't get out of a dance shift and he'd buy a private dance and make me entertain him in a private VIP room. I don't exactly get to say "no" anymore.. "Take your top off, slut." "Press your nose to the floor and say you know your place, slut." "Show me your tits, slut." "Thong off, sluts should be nude." - for the first few dances I grit my teeth and took it, but one time after a longer night I almost broke down. I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my cheeks, and said "I'm really sorry I threw a drink at you, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, What do you want?"

He just chuckled and said "You humiliated me in front of my friends, so I'm going to make sure you remember you're beneath me." - he 'tipped' me two copper pieces that night... for getting on my knees and begging.

I won't lie, there have been times after my shift I just go back to my room and cry at my desk. He doesn't come in as much anymore, thankfully. Perhaps found someone else to torment..

There have been a few times I think about ending it all, but, I still have a few joys in life. Once in a while some drinks become less trendy and bottles are thrown out to make room in the cellar - on those days, in the early morning after the club closes for cleanup, I'll get drunk with Yorick. Three or four days ago we got a crate to toss out back into the garbage - I sat outside topless just getting smashed with my one friend. Yorick still calls me "angel" - it's sweet.

I do have something else that makes me happy though.. Morgana.

A few weeks after I got my new job, she showed up and demanded I serve her a drink. She asked if I liked being a "skank" - "just skank" she called me. "Not Judicator, Just Skank." - a mockery of the word justice, a "skank that still believed in justice" - I wanted to run to my room, grab my sword, and remove her head.. but I knew I didn't dare attack a "customer" - at least she didn't buy dances. But I kept thinking to myself, her day will come, justice will be served.. one day my presence on this world would be vindicated. I still believed in justice.

A few months later, my belief was rewarded. She fell out of favor with the league as well. Without their advertisement and financial backing, her food business crumbled.. I was delighted when Yorick told me Morgana was looking for work. The greatest solace I have is seeing what happened to Morgana.

On her first night on the pole, I was positioned to dance across the room from her - I locked eyes with her and saw her panicked, fearful face as she tried to hide herself from me. I saw the small bits of copper tossed on her stage as she danced for scraps as I did.. and I bit my lip to try to keep myself from laughing.

It was amazing! Seeing her dancing topless in a tiny thong, hearing her clients call her a slut, seeing her taken off to private rooms for special lapdances, I stared her down each time and she hung her head in shame.

Sure I was still dancing on a pole, I was still topless, I still had copper pieces being thrown to me... but I had the biggest smile. I felt so much joy at seeing her suffer. Nothing was more delightful to me than walking past her room early in the morning and hearing her sob.

Well.. almost nothing. About a week later, I overheard the boss talking to her about how little money she was making for the club. She had to get her nipples pierced and rings put in to help the lights reflect off her and make her stand out more - give her a little "shine" so to speak. I was prettier than her! And made more money! When the piercing specialist came one morning to give her her new piercings, I stood in the doorway with the biggest smile on my face as she went through the process and had her nipple rings stuffed in.

Typically with a piercing you are supposed to let it heal and you add the ornament after, and the ornament is removable - not for Morgana. She had some more permanent rings stuffed in; she'd need a doctor to pull them out, not that she can afford one - and I'm certainly not going to lend her a healing spell. Her nipple rings are permanent. Hopefully they still feel sore enough to keep her from falling asleep easily.

She "wasn't worth the resources" to get more delicate treatment. Oh, how lovely!

I used to have - and still have - a saying. 'An eye for an eye.'

Justice. I am a Fallen Angel now.. but not as far-fallen as Morgana. Yorick tells me this world's word for the joy I am experiencing is "Schadenfreude" - it means happiness at another's misfortune. Well-deserved misfortune in this case, I might add.

I still have to dance on the pole, lapdance, and when that one summoner comes in, get on my knees and say "I know my place" - but being "just a skank" doesn't feel so bad. Whenever I see Morgana's face, barely choking back tears, as she gets up on the pole and her nipple rings bounce with her breasts, and I see the discomfort in her face, I just have to bite my lip to keep myself from smiling and laughing the night away.

Just a "skank" - a "Just Skank" - I've always lived with a belief in justice. Seeing Morgana obviously more miserable than me... I will admit, it's been a long time since I cried myself to sleep or since I thought of ending my own life. Besides, was the label really so bad, if every time Morgana heard it, she knew she had things worse than me? If she knew justice won? One or two nicer regulars at the club said I seemed very cheerful and energetic giving lapdances recently, and that I didn't hesitate to take my top off when told to. "I'm just a happy skank!" I said each time, before kissing the customer's cheek. I always give nicer customers a kiss on the cheek after every dance. If I ever feel sad, I just think about Morgana.. or look at her, if she's on the pole with her nipple rings making her feel pain. Just one look at her face of discomfort, and I have the biggest smile.

I put down my pen and close my journal, and slide it back under my bed. I stand and stretch, and leave my small eight-by-eight room to go to the supplies room near the janitorial closet. Yorick was there! With another crate of beer to go out to the dumpster!

"Good morning Yorick!" I say, cheerfully.

"Oh, good morning angel."

I grab a bottle from the crate, pull the cap off, and fill my mouth with alcohol - then press my mouth up to Yoricks' and force the alcohol into his, before chugging the rest of the bottle. Later I'd cast a small healing spell on myself - as an undead, Yorick wasn't the cleanest person to kiss, but for someone that actually learned some healing - instead of spending all one's time on black magic - that's not so big a deal.

I helped Yorick move the normal items out back, while repeatedly drinking from the supposedly-garbage alcohol.

"You seem oddly happy today angel."

I laughed.

"Skank.. call me skank from now on. Just skank." I reply, before helping myself to another bottle.

"Uhm... why?" he retorted. What a sweetcake he is.

"I want that to be the name that gets around.. and I want Morgana to hear it." I state happily.

As my breasts bounce I happily rush to grab another few bottles from the crate of beer, and hand one to Yorick, then spend the next twenty minutes drinking with him out back and telling him about my decision, until some random person walks down the alley.

"Put some clothes on, hoe!" he shouts.

"SKANK!" I shout back, now semi-drunk.

Yorick and I go back inside, and, convinced it will make me happy, he finally agrees to address me by my proper name.

"Fine, skank." he says. I leave the biggest, messiest lipstick kiss on his cheek that I can before rushing off to Morgana's room. I wait outside and press my ear up against the door, and hear the faint sound of her sobs.

Sure, I'm a Fallen Angel now.. but I never lost my love of justice. And the Fallen Angel is allowed to indulge in delicious schadenfreude. Maybe I'll even offer her some healing... if she turns a few tricks out behind the dumpster to get some money and gives me a cut of it, or something equally degrading.

I bite my lip just thinking about it. I return to my room and hum to myself, as I apply some more bright red lipstick, do my nails nice and bright, and think about what dance I will do for the crowd tonight. What was this feeling? Excitement?

I didn't mind being topless, I didn't mind showing my tits, I didn't mind not having any modesty, I didn't mind dancing on a pole in a thong, I didn't mind being named skank. I didn't even mind cold drafts right after the club opened when I felt like it was freezing with my nipples hard. One moan of discomfort from Morgana and her uncomfortable nipple rings, and I would be happy. I even started getting wet. I'm "just skank" now.. a Just Skank.


Dear Journal,

It's been six weeks since my last entry - Sorry I havn't written! French tip nails make holding a pen hard. Excited energetic and wet, I started getting much bigger tips. I pull in enough money the boss wouldn't dare fire me now - but most of my spare time has been spent brushing up my healing skills and researching advanced healing techniques - I'd love for Yorick to have some more living features, if you know what I mean. In a few more months, that will be something I can fix. I have a future... and more importantly, Morgana doesn't! ttyl!

I place down my pen, leave a kiss on the page, and rush out for my scheduled appearance showing off my tits on the pole.